


Protection and Perversity

by Folieacutie



Category: Harry Potter - Fandom, marauders - Fandom
Genre: AU, F/M, Romance, muggleborn relocation AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-09
Updated: 2016-02-13
Packaged: 2018-05-12 19:10:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 16,699
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5677294
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Folieacutie/pseuds/Folieacutie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>At 9:36 AM an owl arrived, and with that came the destruction of Lily Evans holiday. Seeking security, seeking safety, and seeking harmony with her constant company will be as trying as anything. After all, it's not everyday that 37 Muggleborns are brutally murdered in their homes. AU.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Letters and Letups

At 9:36 AM An owl arrived. It swooped in through the open kitchen window and clattered unceremoniously onto the table- knocking over several full glasses in the process. I wasn't expecting another owl, since my eyes already stared at the front headline of the Wizarding Daily as it lay hidden in my lap.  
It's not every day that 37 Muggleborns are brutally murdered in their homes. Or, as the Daily Prophet often puts it, "missing."  
Definitely not every day, because I can clearly recall Tuesdays death count was only 24.  
"Damn it Lily!" Petunia screeched, immediately standing up from her chair, "You and your bloody owls!"  
Apparently, one of those full glasses had spilled right over onto Petunia's new jeans.  
Mum quickly reached over and helped.

"Here- Petunia, get a washcloth- Lily, the owl is eating my cereal- "On Sunday there had only been 17 in one night, and one family wasn't even Muggleborns, they were purebloods who openly defied Voldemort in last weeks Issue of... What was it, the Quibbler?  
Cranberry juice streamed down Petunias absent side of the table.  
"Petunia you need warm water- Lily, you could at least take a look at your mail, this owl did just ruin your sisters pants!"  
Although some could argue that the Pureblood family had it coming, publishing an article about it in a magazine and all. I wondered if anyone would say those Muggleborns had it coming too, by not immediately declaring their loyalty to the Dark Lord. Or by, you know, being born to a muggle family.  
The sink was running, and under it was a grumbling Petunia flinging open the bottom cupboards to find a cloth.  
"Oh Petunia go grab the soap-" Mum seized a wad of napkins, reaching to sop up the mess on the table.  
"I am! I am!"  
"Lily the owl!- no, no, Petunia the other soap- Lily!"  
Last Friday there had been reports of MuggleBorns and some HalfBloods saying they would go into hiding if it got any worse.  
"LILY!" My mum brought her fist down onto the table. Another glass fell over. "Shit!"  
I, thankfully, recovered. My fear evaporated. As I leaped up, sheets of newspaper slipped under the table to the floor- no one was the wiser. Before mum could even move, I plucked the ashy colored owl from mums cereal bowl and quickly set it on my shoulder. Then I went to wiping up the puddles, finally setting the cups upright.  
"Thank you." Mum breathed out. She fell back into her chair.  
From the running sink, Petunia scoffed. "Mum, it's her ruddy fault that all of this happened y'know!"  
"I think mum's aware it was the owls fault..." I muttered, the usual bitterness absent. I finally released the letter from the owl's leg.  
The Ministry Seal had been pressed onto the envelope.  
"Isn't it a little early for grades, honey?" Mum asked. She picked from my plate, thinking I wouldn't notice as I unfurled the letter.  
I think I may have nodded.  
"This stupid stain isn't coming out!" petunia sneered.  
I'm unsure how many minutes passed from the moment I read the heading to the moment where I, wide-eyed, reached the bottom of the parchment.  
Frantically I scanned the tiny black printed words again.  
"... What does the message say, Lily?"

For a few seconds words seemed foreign to my tongue. Blinking, I swallowed. "Holy Merlin. I can't believe they're just going... going to do this."

"Do what, finally ship you away for good?" Petunia asked.  
Unknown to her, she wasn't too far off.  
Mum sighed, "Not now Petunia."  
"It's... It's a," the bolded letters didn't waver like my voice did. "It's a Muggleborn Security Relocation Program, conducted by the Ministry Of Magic."  
"No one understood any of that Freak Speak." Petunia informed me, furiously scrubbing her jeans.  
"Oh shut up Petunia," I finally dropped my arms to my sides, "You obviously know what A Muggleborn is! You can't just pretend you don't know anything!"  
"What, do you think I actually listen to you when you drone on and on about that insane asylum you go to every year?"  
"Well!" Mum raised her voice, "I know that I have absolutely no idea about the last part, and I think you should explain it so we're all in the loop here!"  
Petunia huffed, but continued rubbing at her stain in silence.  
I decided to start from the beginning. "It has to do with blood status," I began, "Since I'm born to a family of non magical people... I'm at risk."  
Mum raised her brows, eyeing me cautiously. "At risk for what, exactly?"  
A knot of despair grew in my stomach. I had carefully avoided bringing up any news about politics and the evolving war in the wizarding world. All Wizard Daily's were read from my lap, hidden by the table. Even then I usually glanced at the headline (which, for the past few weeks featured news about MuggleBorn killings) and then stashed the paper away until I was in the comfort of my room to finish reading.  
I ducked underneath the kitchen table and popped back up with the Wizard Daily.  
"Some wizards don't think Muggleborns should have magic, that Muggleborns have dirty blood and should be... Well, eradicated." I slid the newspaper over to her.  
For a moment mum was silent, her eyes roaming over the large black letters- the news of 37 murders.  
"Lily," mum leaned her head against her hand, "why did you never mention this? How long..." she looked down at the paper again, unable to finish her question.  
"The killings have only gone on for a month or so. " I reassured her a bit too quickly. "At first it seemed accidental, and papers like the biased Prophet took weeks to even admit some of it, but the Ministry knows that Muggleborns specifically are being targeted." Taking a deep breath I added, "and who's committing them."  
Petunia stopped scrubbing. The sink continued to flow.  
"It's a whole group, they call themselves Death Eaters and their leader is named Voldemort."  
I waited for someone to flinch at the name, but of course they no one did.  
Mum wasn't naive enough to ask 'and why has no one caught them?', knowing fairly well that a situation so dire is more complicated than that. Instead she blew some air out of her nose and nodded slowly.  
"They- the magical police- they are trying to prevent these murders, right?" I was surprised she was taking this so well.  
Fidgeting with my hands, I opened my mouth. "Yeah...they're trying. It's... A difficult task." The owl nipped at my shoulder. "To be honest, the papers probably can't reveal the efforts of the Magical Police- or, they simply don't want to. Either way the public doesn't know a lot about it..."  
"What's written in letter then, it's for your protection?" There was obvious concern in her words.  
I blinked, remembering the letter in my hands.  
"Yes- well no. It's... completely unethical," I said exasperatedly. "What the Ministry is trying to enforce...it's ridiculous." Lifting it up to read, I furrowed my brows. "'For the protection and security of Muggleborn Students until their return to Hogwarts on September 1st, A relocation program has been conducted by the Ministry of Magic in order to eliminate the Trace on Muggleborns. As known, if the Witch and or Wizard is the only one of their household, the Trace is able to pinpoint the singular Magical Being. By housing the individual with a consenting Wizarding family, the Muggleborn will then be undetected as such, since the Trace will then only determine that more than one Witch and or Wizard belongs to the household.  
"Further security measures will ensure the protection of the Muggleborn, including but not limited to: Possible Housing with A family containing a ministry worker or specifically an Auror, several protection charms and incantations put on the area, and access to The Floo Network for a guaranteed safe escape if needed.  
To participate in this program that ranges from July 7th to September 1st, the parental guardian of Lily Evans who is, as of today, July 5th, under age, must sign below. If the guardian does choose for their child to be relocated, the additional information of their Host Wizarding family will arrive tomorrow, July 6th.'"  
Reaching the end of the letter, I audibly sighed, my shoulders dropping.  
Mum didn't say anything. She stared at the newspaper blankly.  
37 Muggleborns killed.  
"It's ridiculous." I restated after she remained silent, "How does the Ministry just expect me to get up and move, leaving you guys behind while I stay at some strangers house."  
Still, mum gave no reaction.  
"I mean, think about it, I can protect you guys if I'm here! What if Voldermort attacks while I'm away at bloody who knows where? What happens if I'm forced to house with a bunch of witches and wizards who are totally insane? Are the volunteering families even investigated to make sure they're safe? So many things could go wrong."  
"Lily." Mum finally spoke, silencing me immediately. "This evil group, the Death people, they won't have a reason or thought to attack our house as long as it's known that you're not here- because of that magical Trace." Her eyes looked down at the paper, hand curled into fist. "Your life is more important to me than your comfort is, and even if the Wizarding family is awkward, I doubt they would put you in any more danger than you're in right now-"  
"But mum-"  
"No." Her head shot up. "I can't stand to worry about the prospect of you... Being hunted down while you live here. This very house, with Petunia and I in it, apparently makes you stick out-"  
"Yes I know but-"  
"Lily! I will not stand to have your life in danger!" Her voice strained, "You said it yourself, they are trying to eradicate you. They're giving you an option and you are going to take it. I'm- ...I'm not putting you at the risk of becoming another number on-" she furiously lifted the newspaper so I could see the headline, "this death toll!"  
I glanced back up to her face, flushed with anger, eyes full of unshed tears. Suddenly I felt guilty.  
Then she rose from her chair and came to my side, where she, with a blue pen, scribbled her signature.  
The ink glowed, changing from blue to green, and with a tiny hoot, the owl clamped the paper in its beak and departed.

I wasn't sure if wanting to stay made me selfish or not.  
On one hand, if I was able to stay, which I now was unable to, theoretically I would put Mum and Tuney in danger. But if- once I left, they could still...  
Yet, no, they wouldn't be attacked if I wasn't in the picture. I was just unwilling to stay in a strangers house for the remainder of my holiday. I was selfish. Horribly selfish. Mum was right of course, my comfort was little priority over my life- and theirs. How could I even fathom putting them at risk?  
I couldn't, that is until I got the second letter with the additional information.

There was a noise, a persistent tapping.  
"Go away," I groaned.  
Tap tap tap  
Turning over, I grumbled and pulled my blanket away from my face, eyes crusty and hair matted.  
"What the?" And with a jolt I remembered.  
I, quite literally, tumbled out of bed. My blanket was still wrapped around my leg as I reached and opened the window. A warm gust of air hit my skin.  
The source of the annoying tapping noise was an owl with a letter tied to its right leg. Again, the Ministry's seal kept the envelope closed.  
A mixture of nervousness and dread buzzed around in my stomach. I untied the paper hurriedly, and then slit the envelope open.  
With steady fingers I unfolded the parchment.

Lily Evans is to participate in the Muggleborn Security Relocation Program, which is carefully conducted by the Ministry Of Magic to ensure no harm comes to the individual. The letter went on like this, listing certain conditions and security measures, which were things that I cared about, although not as much as where exactly I was being relocated to.  
Thus, I skimmed, going past phrases "if the individual does not abide..." and "any concerns may be voiced in a separate letter," I finally got to a bolded section.

Lily Evans has been relocated to a household that is owned by two ministry workers, specifically Aurors.  
Lily Evans will be escorted, via side-along Apparation, at approximately 8:32 AM on July 7th, to where the Potter family resides.

"No way."  
I read it again. After my second read-through, the note combusted, leaving only the date and time stamp untouched.  
I barely noticed it, my mind too busy.

"No, no, no."  
Staying with the Potters entailed staying with James Potter, the annoying prick who teased me and made a complete fool of himself every time he tried to gain my affections. He attempted it far too often in 4th and 5th year.  
I pressed my hand to my forehead, letting out a breath. "Oh Merlin. I'm staying at James Potter's house. I'd rather be chucked out to the Death Eaters."

I told myself to breathe, to consider that it might not be as horrid as I thought.  
There were a few positives, I reminded myself. As of last year he certainly held back in both the "Hexing random first years" and "composing cringe-worthy situations to impress Lily Evans" departments. While he certainly never stalked me or came close to doing so, his consistent glances lessened, and so did his awkward, complete rubbish, flirty one liners. I could count on one hand the amount of times he had tried (and obviously failed) to charm me with his antics in 6th year. Wow, what a success.  
NEWTS classes proved him to be a bit less annoying. He focused more, pranked less. Since the lack of classes with the slytherins he had no one to pick a fight with. I'll admit it: some of them were slimy gits, and Sirius' and James' prank on them that one time was kind of funny.

We had even managed to have two civil conversations during Transfiguration- if you could call them conversations; they both went something like: "Ergh, stupid rabbit!"

"You should swish your hand more."

"...Oh, that worked. Thank you Evans."  
Still. That didn't mean we were suddenly going to get along just peachy. And that certainly didn't mean that I wanted to spend two entire months at his house.  
Hopefully it won't be a nightmare.

I sighed, not bothering to walk to my bed to sit down. With a flop I spread my limbs across my floor.  
Not even giving me a chance to close my eyes and groan about this whole situation, my door barged open.  
"Lily, I need to borrow your- what the hell are you doing on the floor?"  
I huffed. "Thanks for being so charming Petunia; I'm totally willing to let you borrow my things now."  
She smiled sweetly, "Not a problem. Now where is your mascara? I'm going out with Vernon for brunch and I need it." Her gaze roamed my dresser determinedly.  
Rolling my eyes, I sat up. "I thought you had your own."  
"Then you went and turned it into a rat!"  
She forgot to mention that I did it because she stole half of my closet.  
"I turned it back two days ago!" Heat rose up to my face.  
She looked disgusted. "And you think I would even touch it after that?"  
I clenched my teeth. "If you're so unwilling to use it after a bit of transfiguration, then why are you not opposed to using my mascara when it has been touched by the freak herself!"  
"I wouldn't be here asking you to if you hadn't acted like such a child!"  
"A child? At least I'm not using it to go on a date with Moby Dick!"  
Petunia narrowed her eyes.  
"I bet you're so glad to be going off for the holiday, less time to spend here with people who have problems with your weirdo circus act!"  
"You heard why I can't stay here." I got up from the floor, hands balled into fists. "Don't blame this on me, it's not like I want to live in some stranger's house!"  
"Not blame you?" She spit out, "Even your own freakish ministry is blaming you."  
It felt like I had been hit with a stunning spell.  
"No," with a gulp I added, "the ministry is blaming me for living in a family of non magical people, which includes you. The Trace can only identify me because I'm the sole witch in this house."  
There was a moment of heated silence.  
She opened her mouth, pink gloss tainting her lips. "I don't know why I bothered." Petunia sneered and turned. "Who would want your dirty mascara anyway?"  
Heels clacking, Petunia sauntered back to her room.  
A small part of me hoped I would get a goodbye from her tomorrow.

Panic currently was ensuing.  
Packing was difficult. Figuring out what to pack was a horrid experience.  
I was under in a unique situation. Not only did I have to pack for school, I also had to pack for the holiday. Double the organizing, double the clothing: double the suit cases.  
While I bet James and his family wore casual Wizarding wear, the only wizard clothes I had were my Hogwarts robes and uniforms. Muggle clothes would have to do, then.  
I nearly packed my entire wardrobe, complete with multiple shirts, some for sleeping, most for daily wear, an ugly jumper that was a neon orange and looked awful with my hair, and multiple shorts along with pants.  
Books were a must, and might have to be my savior at the Potter house. I kept it to only seventeen.  
Would the potters have a record player? Unlikely. With my records stowed in the pocket of my case, I closed up my player- I would just have to bring my own.

*  
I rose super early for once, too nauseous to sleep past 5 AM. In the brightening kitchen I sat pretzel style on the stool by the table. Blinking, I tore off a small piece of my strawberry toast and ate it slowly.

As soon as the sun fully rose Petunia stormed down the stairs, hair in its prep stage and half of her outfit as pajamas.  
She let out a dramatic gasp, "Aren't you usually dead until 3 in the afternoon?"  
I sighed. "Not now Tuney, I couldn't sleep...this whole relocation thing is making me nervous."  
She peeked her head from the fridge, "oh. That." She crinkled her nose disdainfully. "So you're not pleased with the situation then?"  
My laugh was bitter, "the fact that I have to leave my house to go live with strangers?" I hadn't told them that I knew exactly whose house I was staying at. "and leave you guys without protection? No, I'm not happy."  
Petunia huffed, and backed away from the open fridge, holding out her hands. "My nail polish hasn't dried yet, grab the milk for me, will you?" Her tone was softer than usual, but still unpleasant.  
I obliged.  
"It seems like we're safer without you here."  
I looked at her, but she was avoiding my gaze.  
"That... Trace thingy... It can be used against you- us." She stated.  
"Yes." I murmured.  
"Then it's better for all of us that you join... Your kind. It's not like you were going to be living here for very long anyway, right? After this school you're going to go off to...m-m-magic university or whatever your type has."  
I set the milk on the table, and wrapped my arms around my torso.  
"I don't mean to act like I'm abandoning you."  
Silence.  
And then...  
"Too late there."  
"Tuney! Seriously!" I raised my arms, "this wasn't my plan either!"  
She turned her back, "I'm going to Vernon's in an hour." Her voice low, distant, matter of fact.  
Tears rose in my eyes, "Are you at least going to say good bye to me then?"  
"Good bye Lily." And she went pass me up the stairs, where I heard her door shut.  
She forgot the milk.

"Are you ready to apparate, Miss Evans?"  
I nodded. We learned how to do it in school last year, so I knew fully well what to expect.  
The man clutched my arm and I sent my mom a watery smile before I felt the pull and darkness consume us.

Even here, it rained.  
All I could see was a large lawn, the bright grass slippery and wilted from the weight of the pouring water. Suddenly a piece of paper was thrust into my face, and I blinked as I read it. 46th Dallon Avenue, OpalMeadow, England. It was the address of the Potter House- or, should I say estate, considering the building that appeared in front of me was not just a simple house.  
A golden gate materialized, slightly constricting my view of the ever growing house.  
It expanded, white columns, two balconies jutting from the large French doors on the second floor, a wide two door entrance painted a brilliant red.  
The path leading to it was laid out in a brick pattern, yet was black and twinkling from the rain. Flowers lined the trail, reaching the front of the house where a series of bushes dotted with yellow- or were they golden?- roses framed the front.  
I didn't do anything, but neither did my escort- yet the gate began to open.  
The door of the house- mansion really- also opened, and a man rushed out of it.  
"Hello there!" He yelled, waving his arm, nearing us.  
My hair, sopping from the rain, clung to my face as I said back, "Hi!" I hurried a bit up the path, approaching him in the middle.  
The man was tall and lean, a trimmed greying beard framed his chin and his mouth. The hair on his hair was surprisingly tidy.  
Gusts of humid air whipped the end of my coat around.  
I definitely was expecting his hair to be sticking up like his son's.  
"Lily!" He pulled me into a hug, "wonderful to meet you," I returned the gesture, "you too ." and he pulled away. He held my shoulders, but began to talk to my escort. I got a better look of his face. Laughter lines were around his mouth, there were crinkles by his eyes. His nose wasn't the same as James', a bit wider, but they had the same chin. He had a nice smile too, a big friendly one, and his eyes were hazel.  
"Yes, thank you." And as quickly as he appeared with me, my escort disaparated.  
redirected his focus to me. "I'll properly introduce myself inside; I would be a dreadful host to keep you in this rain any longer!" He laughed.  
"Too late there! The damage has been done." I gestured to my clothing which was clinging to me.  
raised his brows and dropped them with a sigh, "Forgive me," we began to hurry down the path, "which you must since I'll be providing for you for the next 2 months."  
We came up to the bushes- gold flowers- and I replied "Thank you for all of this by the way, and I can hold a grudge pretty well."  
Chuckling, he took off my coat as we entered the house.  
"That would not surprise me; my son has told us lots about how you're constantly annoyed with him."  
I barely registered the words, my eyes too busy roaming. A grand staircase, over to the left side, led up to the second floor. Made of simple yet shiny light wood, it managed a look of elegance but not flashiness. On the first floor in front of me there was a short hall that branched off on the right, and I could peek into the kitchen- wide and spacious. The countertops were smooth slabs of swirling gray and white marble. Not totally spotless; papers and a few ink bottles and quills laid around.  
Even though the house was huge, it didn't feel empty. A small navy blue rug was under my feet, pictures of the Potters lined the walls in this room, underneath them were shelves displaying books and candles and certificates, even an extremely miniaturized hovering broom.  
It felt lived in.  
"Your house is very nice, ."  
My fingers curled around the ends of my sweater-I hadn't realized he used a spell to dry me off.  
"Thank you, my wife and I were busting ourselves with tidying up, I'm glad it wasn't for nothing. Oh, and please call me Fleamont."  
What I thought was, What a horrible first name. What I said was,"I'd say you did a spiffing job; certainly does look very clean-"  
"Just don't go into James' room; it's horrendous in there." He warned with a sly smirk.  
"OI!" The devil in question appeared. The "oi" fumbled into more of an "oh" once he reached the staircase. Immediately his hand went to reach for his hair. "Evans..." Potter gulped, covering his motion up by tugging slightly on his collar. "Hullo."  
I refrained from showing any signs of discomfort, "Hello... James."  
He quirked his brows. "First name basis?" A slight smile played on his lips.  
"It seemed appropriate; I am living in your house now, yeah?" I lifted my suitcases a bit for emphasis.  
"Right."

He stepped down the stairs. Then said, obviously attempting to act casual, "Where's mum?"  
Fleamont frowned. "I don't suppose she's on any missions as of now...though she stayed at work so as to not rouse any suspicion. My wife's an auror." He told me.  
"Oh, yes, It explained in the letter. Do...other people know about the relocation? People that don't house anyone?" I asked.  
"Oh no, no of course not. There might be a few rumors, but it was all carried out secretly. If there's any suspicions the ministry will confund people. Euphemia just decided not to make it obvious."  
"You did though?"  
This time Potter answered. "Nah, dad's retired, from both his hair potion business and the department. Mum still has two years left- as an auror."  
The weight of my luggage seemed to increase the longer I held it.  
"Is there a place I could put these?"  
Fleamont startled, " Oh! I forgot, your room is upstairs, James go show her around, will you? I should get breakfast started." With a flick of his wrist my trunks lifted to the air.  
"Thank you Fleamont." I smiled, although inside I was dreading his departure.  
With a nod, he turned and went to the kitchen, and Potter and I were left alone.  
"Er..." Potter raised his wand, my luggage following, "I'll show you to your room."  
We ascended the stairs and he led me into the hallway in silence. We passed many doors, pictures hanging on the walls, walking along with a thin gold rug under our feet, the shiny hardwood revealed on sides.  
"This," he tapped on a door, "is my room," pointed to one three or four identical white doors down, "that is my parents room," he turned around, "and this..." He opened another door, "is your room."  
It was certainly bigger than my one back home. The room was colored a tame yellow, white moldings wrapping around. Covered in a light blue comforter the queensized bed rested in the middle of the room, the headboard against the east wall. A mirror hung opposite it, with a white dresser underneath. There was a wardrobe next to the wide window, the curtains airy and transparent, fluttering from a slight breeze.  
My room back home...  
Isn't something I should be thinking about.  
"It's lovely." I commented. My luggage landed on the bed with a thud.  
"Glad you like it, since, you know, you'll be uh, living in it for a while."  
I walked over to the dresser and glided my finger along its edge. "I reckon this isn't such a bad place to be forced to hide in." I glanced at him, his expression cautious.  
"Listen- ev- Lily." He sighed and took a moment, shuffled his hands. "I don't want you to think you're held captive here or anything, really. We may be doing this for your safety, but that doesn't mean you'll have to stop talking to your family."  
I raised my brows.  
"...I mean not using owls, since they could be intercepted, and you'd have to be extremely discreet in them anyways- I uh mean the letters, not the owls- and i assumed that would be rather pointless wouldn't it? Since uh..." He gulped, "anyway we added a muggle phone line and everything, so you can still- er, ring them when you want to..."  
My heart leaped. "Seriously? You bought me a phone?"  
He smiled, his hand ran through his wild hair. "Yeah. We had some trouble with it, but it's right here-" Potter turned and pointed next to the door frame.  
"Well, now I know why I hadn't noticed it; it was behind me." I said, a bit in awe.  
"Sneaky muggle products." He chuckled.  
I picked up the phone. The weight heavy in my hand was oddly comforting

"Thank you." I meant it.  
He left out a breath, his shoulders relaxing. He shoved his hands into his pockets."No problem. I'm all about using my great intelligence for others."  
I played along. "Oh so modest."  
"Why thank you, I'll come up with anything to make the guests feel more comfortable."  
I snorted, "too bad you're here."  
"Harsh, Evans."  
"Really though... thanks."  
"Really though, you're welcome."  
Smiling, we lapsed into silence.  
Potter opened his mouth several times but always decided against words. So I started.  
"I...I suppose, since I'm living here now, that we shouldn't be down each others throats, yeah?"  
He sucked in a breath, hissing."Would I ruin that plan if I made a suggestive comment right now?"  
"Merlin, yes Pot-James. Don't take the Mickey, I'm just suggesting that maybe we should try not to fight."  
"I did ask first."  
I waited.  
"Okay. Not fighting would be nice. Though if I do recall we didn't fight all that much this term anyway.." He tweaked his glasses.  
"Compared to 5th year you mean, to which every time we saw each other you'd find an excuse to piss me off, so in comparison of course 6th year didn't seem like a lot."  
"I didn't mean to- I was a stupid git."  
I inclined my head and arched a brow, "was?" My lips quirked.  
"And here I thought we weren't going to fight," he scoffed.  
"Fighting? We're not fighting. I'm just pointing out the obvious."  
"Seemed a little rude to me." He looked determinedly away, yet I could tell, even with arms crossed, that he wasn't actually angry.  
My eyes roamed his figure. Dressed in black pants and a blue buttoned shirt, I could easily imagine his Hogwarts robes resting over his outfit- I don't know why I was even surprised to find that he didn't wear muggle clothing. No high waisted pants or light wash jeans, that's for sure. And why would he?  
"Alright," I hung up the phone. "Just don't fall back on your old..." Personality? "Immaturity... And I might be able to survive."  
He looked down at his shoes, "I hope you do more than just survive." His voice was low, almost a murmur.  
"That is what I'm doing now though, surviving against..." I hesitated "Voldemort."  
Potter chuckled, finally meeting my eyes. "We're allowed to say his name here." He confirmed, then he shrugged, "even if my mum and dad wouldn't permit it, I have a knack for rebelling against authority."  
Speaking of authority, Fleamont yelled that breakfast was served. We met eyes again, and I looked away.  
I slipped past him and stepped out into the hall. "Well, are you going to rebel and refuse to eat?"  
"Sirius always had more detentions than me!"  
And soon enough I was seated at a grand table, not as long as one in the great hall, but still longer than necessary for a family of three. Thus we sat around the top of it, with Fleamont seated at the head, and Potter and I facing one another.  
The rest of the table was layered with food. Mostly small snacks, pastries, while we ate the actual meals, omelets and home-fries.  
"You can come in here whenever you want and knick something," Fleamont told me, gesturing to the rest of the table with an air of mischief.  
"Agh dad." Potter groaned and lowered his fork, "you can't tell her she can knick something, where's the fun in that?"  
"Not everything has to be an adventure, James."  
"Thank you Fleamont." I replied politely.  
We continued to eat, the sounds of our cutlery moving through the silence until Fleamont spoke again.  
"So Lily, James has told me you're one of the best students in your year..." at this, Potter glared at his father, positively pink in the face, "do you think you're going to be awarded Head Girl?"  
It was my turn to blush, and I raised my eyebrows.  
"Head Girl? I... I hadn't really thought about it." Once upon a time, yes, but when tensions had been so high because of the threats and the pressure of owl exams? No. And my only thoughts this summer were about enjoying the time off, despite my unease at the recent headlines.  
I looked to Potter, who was now staring determinedly at his lap.  
"I suppose I wouldn't be bad at it. I'm already a Prefect."  
"A prefect too, eh? You're practically a shoe-in for the job! It's extremely difficult. From what I've heard, that is! See, James' mum was the Head Girl." He sighed a bit dramatically, "I never did do as well as her at...well, anything really." Yet he didn't seem particularly bummed about that. Actually he seemed practically delighted to boast about Mrs. Potter, which he continued to for several minutes.  
How adorable.  
"That woman..."  
"Okay dad. I think we got it." Potter grumbled.  
The rest of the conversation was mostly between me and Fleamont. We talked about the recent killings, my possible aspirations after Hogwarts, and the classes I would be taking this year. When we moved to my life at home, Potter piped up.  
"Is Petunia still a bloody nightmare?"  
I whipped my head around, "what?"  
He paused. "Petunia." He said, "is she still a bloody nightmare?"  
"How do you know about my sister?"  
He shrugged. "I'm not a bad listener, you know. You've mentioned her at school before."  
"Never to you." I said, not realizing how coldly.  
A small blush rose to his face, "maybe not directly."  
There was a pause.  
"So, is she still-"  
"Yes, right up to this morning." I looked away.  
"I'm...sorry."  
James Potter, saying sorry?  
Fleamont looked at me with soft eyes. "That must be hard for you."  
I struggled with words, "yeah. It's... Aggravating."  
"Don't worry, with me around, you'll miss her in no time." Potter joked.  
Little did he know, I always did.


	2. Battles and balance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lily begins adjusting to her new situation, but not without a few obstacles- or should I say, the idiotic acts of a certain teenage boy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is short in comparison to the last one, so I'm sorry about that. I hope it's still entertaining though! If anyone can give me examples of British slang that would be really helpful bc I don't think I'm all that great at it. Also I'm sorry that the indentations aren't consistent; moving from Google Docs to this format messes everything up.  
> 

* * *

 

**Battles and balance**

For the given circumstances, I wasn't having a bad time at the Potter's residence.  
The place itself was very nice and inviting, the food was abundant and fresh, and the company...well....  
I was suspicious of the company. Particularly James potter, to no surprise.  
He was acting very...unusual. Unlike his annoying self. It seemed like my position as guest made him more sheepish than arrogant. Or maybe, it was me who didn't mind as much?  
Admitting either one to myself was unlikely to happen.    
_One month and three weeks to go._

  
***

I was sitting in what I deemed "my reading room" when Potter came in.  
Given the distance of this room from the rest of the house, I usually left the door open. The walls were built-in bookshelves, made of dark hardwood. And the plush red arm chair with a matching futon made the perfect reading spot.  
"You have a blanket on? It's July."  
I nearly shrieked in surprise. "Christ! Potter- James! Don't just-"  
"Talk?"  
I rolled my eyes. "Yes. Don't talk. At all. Ever."  
"No can do, Evans." He leaned against the door frame,"So, what's with the blanket?"  
"What's with…” I looked down at my blanket, “ugh.” I looked back up at him, “What, I can't be cozy when reading?"  
"Not when it's 32 degrees outside. How you're not boiling right now, I have no idea."  
"I'm usually cold. Don't judge me. Also..not to be rude but..what do you want?"  
His hand ran through his jet black hair. "I uh, was thinking, since the weather is so nice and all, if you'd join me for a match?"  
"A match? Of quidditch?" I raised my eyebrows.  
"Yeah."  
"Oh."  
Silence.  
"I've never really been too fond of flying,  if you didn't know..."  
"I did..nt." He gave a startled hop, raising his index finger, "I did not! Okay, well... I'll see you for dinner then!"    
And he was gone.  
_No persisting? No wagering? Not even a "if you play a match with me, I'll do your laundry for two weeks?"_  
_Then again, does he even know how to do laundry?_  
_Also, he called me Evans. I guess only some old habits die hard._

**  
    Dinner was roasted turkey with green beans and sweet potatoes on the side.

  
    "You're beautiful Lily," Mrs. Potter mused, "who'd you inherit your hair from?"  
    I blushed, "thank you. Blonde hair runs in the family, but no one close has red hair. Since a lot of the old photos are black and white, it's hard to tell."  
    "Maybe it came along with your magic gene," there was a twinkle in her eye when she said this: _that's where Potter gets it, then_ .  
    "I've thought of that too!"  
    It was the first night Euphemia was home for dinner. We met at the odd hour of 11 PM on my second day here: she had just gotten home and was obviously worn down and tired. Her brown hair was tied up in a loose bun, her face absent of any makeup. Unfortunately, I had on my pajamas. Not to say my pajamas are embarrassing, because their not. The monkeys on them are very cute, thank you.  
I just wished my attire had been more appropriate.

    “So, did they go _completely bonkers_ when they learnt you were a witch?”

    I laughed, “They took it rather well actually! By the time I got my letter my sister was sick of hearing about Hogwarts and my parents no longer thought they were insane!”

    Fleamont swallowed his food,“were there other wizarding families around to tell them?”

    Shrugging I said,“There was just this one kid, Sev, who lived a town over, he explained everything.” It was out of my mouth before I processed it.

    Potter met my eye. Looked away.

    Euphemia and Fleamont glanced at each other.

    “He went to Hogwarts too?” An innocent question.

    “Yeah.”

    Potter huffed.“He’s a self-righteous Slytherin git.”

     I glared.

    “ _James-_ ” Fleamont started.

    Euphemia extended her hand across the table,“ _Sweetheart-_ ”

    “What? It’s the truth mum.” He sat back with a lift to his chin that infuriated me instantly.

    I felt my face heat up.“Wow- Even _now_ you can’t restrain yourself!”

“I just didn’t want my parents getting the wrong idea.” He said cooly.

My breath left me in an indignant huff. “I think your parents would be just fine without your input, seeing as you’re _also_ a self-righteous git. Being in Gryffindor doesn’t pardon someone from being an arse.”

    “ _I_ can't restrain myself?” He raised his hands, “You’re the one still defending him! And calling me an arse even after _he_ called you-”

    I leaned in, “I wasn’t defending him, Potter. If you listened better than a moldy sock-”

“I was listening! You keep saying I never do and yet-”

“-You would _realize_ I only said you were _also_ an arse-”

“I listen to you all the time!” He lifted his arms, “Even when you think I’m being an ‘arse’ I’m worrying about you meanwhile you continue defending him while-”

“-And that he isn’t the _only_ self-righteous idiot at Hogwarts! Meaning he _is one!_ That, however, does not excuse _you_!”

James stood up quickly, nearly knocking his glasses eskew. “HE CALLED YOU THE M WORD!”

No one spoke.

I stepped away from my chair, my face aflame. “I can recall that incident perfectly for myself, thanks.” Then I remembered his parents were feet away. Through gritted teeth I said,“Thank you for the meal, Mr and Mrs Potter. If you’ll excuse me I’ll be up in my room.”

**

I almost called mum after dinner. I decided against it: She would hear the tremble in my voice immediately. Why worry her?

Two hours passed by the time there was a knock on my door.

“It’s Euphemia.”

I sat up. “Come in.”

Euphemia peeked her head in. “How are you doing, Lily?” And proceeded to walk into the room, closing the door behind her.

Before she did, however, I held my hand up, “I appreciate you letting me stay here, and I’m sorry for any stress i’ve put on your family, but if you’re coming in here to apologize on your son’s behalf, I would really you rather not, Mrs. Potter.”

    She slightly raised her brows.

    “I get that you’d want to ensure me he ‘means well’ and all that, and I appreciate you checking in, but if Potter- ugh, James- is going to make me see him differently, I want it to be from him.”

    My words hung in the air, for a fragile, scary, moment.

    _I am so fucked._

    Then, she made an amused face. “I actually think you’re right with that, Lily.”

    I audibly sighed. “Oh thank Merlin. For a second there I thought I was about to be thrown out.”

    “Now,” she laughed, “If we threw you out, who would be here to call my son an arse?”

    “Er...Sorry about that.”

    Euphemia shrugged, “While It’s not the best reaction from a guest, it wasn’t right for my son to bring up what he did. Although in the future It would be great if you could refrain from certain...language.”

    I nodded. “Yes, of course.”

    “I’ll let James apologize on his own time. It wouldn’t be genuine if I made him come up here.”

    “Thank you.”

    “In the meantime…” she smiled brightly, “I thought you’d need some dessert.” From behind her back she revealed two bowls of ice-cream with mounds of whipped cream.

    “Oh gosh, sure, thank you.”

    As she handed me my bowl she sighed and sat on the edge of my bed, “I know it must be hard adjusting, and worrying about your family. I’m sorry for that. I figured the incident tonight made you feel even lonelier.”

    I couldn’t deny this. “It’s hard. Especially tonight. But I can’t complain,” I gestured to the room, “this is definitely better than any relocation I could have hoped for. It’s just...James and I have...a troubled past… It’s great to know my family is safer though.”

    “How is your family, by the way? I haven’t heard much about them.”

From there, I basically explained everything. From how my sister and I were the best of friends, to now. I even mentioned Severus. I didn’t bring up James though, and Euphemia didn’t push. She inquired about my parent’s professions and my muggle upbringing.

We spoke long after we finished our desserts.

Only when Fleamont knocked on my door did we stop our conversation.

He stuck his head in.“I’m sorry for stealing my wife from you, Lily, but I’m afraid I must.”

I found myself laughing, “Totally understandable sir.”

Euphemia and I hugged. I promised to make breakfast.

Sleep came quickly.

**

Potter and I didn’t acknowledge each other in the morning. I decided to call off addressing him as James. The habit was hard to change anyway.

Fleamont practically shoveled the food into his mouth.“This french toast is very good, Lily!”

“Thanks! It’s a muggle recipe.”

The rest of us chatted about mundane things. His parents revealed they were going out to run errands and get food from the grocer later. They said Potter and I would have to fix lunch for ourselves.

“There's sandwich meats in the fridge, and bread on the counter. If you need anything from the market write it down on this pad.” Fleamont said.

“It’s linked to our pad, so whatever you write shows up on ours in real time.”

Fleamont grinned, “comes in handy when you forget to tell us something and we’re not home.”

I scribbled “ _Buy Lily dark chocolate_ ” on one pad and watched as the words appeared on the other one, in my exact handwriting.

“Huh,” I mused, “us muggles use telephones.” It got a laugh from them.

Potter was silent. _Silent as stone, like a very pompous sulking statue_.

As soon as Euphemia and Fleamont left, Potter and I went into our separate corners of the house. Me to my reading room, him to...wherever he goes.

***

In three hours I finished one of my books from home. It revolved around some bloke from the States named Benedict Arnold who betrayed, like, everyone he knew. _What a pillock._

I closed it and went to make some lunch.

Turns out, Potter had a similar idea.

His back faced me when I walked in. I didn’t say hi, only grabbed what I needed. He wore a black button up, with the sleeves rolled. The professional attire still seemed weird in a casual setting.

He turned, and we sidestepped each other.

“Where’s the mustard?” I asked.

No reply.

“Potter, where’s the mustard?” I glared at his shoulder blades.

“Fridge. Third shelf on the door.”

I didn’t bother saying thank you.

I swung open the fridge and shifted through some cold drawers.“Eugh,” I mumbled, “out of ham.” I settled for roast beef.

Rather uncomfortably we assembled our sandwiches side by side.

He had whole wheat, lettuce, tomato, swiss (ew), turkey, hummus. Not that I cared.

Without a goodbye, I took my sandwich with me into the reading room.

I realized I forgot my drink halfway through my meal. Potter wasn’t in the room when I returned; his plate in the sink.

When my glass of water filled I remembered to write down I wanted ham from the store. However, when I located a pen and reached for the pad, ham was already listed. In James’ handwriting. It said _“For Lily_ ”.

**

Thirty minutes into a new book,  Potter appeared in the doorway.

“Hey, Evans…”

I looked up and raised my eyebrows.

_Do not mention the ham. The ham does not make up for his behavior._

“I wanted to… Uh, say I’m sorry… If I offended you or hurt your feelings at dinner last night.”

_Who cares about the ham?_

I put my book down,“That's not a proper apology.”

“You know me,” he smiled, “I've never had a good track record of doing things properly.”

I wasn't letting him get away with a smile and a joke: “Yeah, and how's that working out for you?”

He sighed. “If you don't want to hear my apology-”

“Your _shit_ apology-”

“Then I'll just leave!”

“Good!” I yelled. “Bye!”

He left...and a few minutes later, stormed back in.

“What do you want me to say?”

I made a face, “I'm not going to script your apology for you!”

He brought his hand to his hair, made a pained expression. “I'm sorry, okay! He… Sniv- Severus, gets under my skin.”

“Which isn't an excuse-”

“I got that! Just let me finish, jeeze.”

I leaned back, my arms crossed.

“He pisses me off. And I shouldn't have called him what I did because it wasn't my parents business and it really had nothing to do with the conversation. I just… He was a part of your childhood, and I don't know, I didn't want my parents- or you- thinking he was some great guy.” He looked up. “And yeah, okay, I was also a complete arse… Still am, arguably. I didn't want you to defend him. He's not worth defending when he did that to you! And, and, he sided with...well, you know. I get you guys were best friends, but that doesn't make what he did okay.”

“You think I'm incapable of knowing that? I ended things with him for a reason.”

He nodded, “I know that. And you’re right, I shouldn't think that of you.” He froze, “And I don't!”

“Obviously you do.”

“Alright.” He winced and tweaked his glasses.“I'll stop doing that then. And about the arse thing, It's true that you weren't defending him, and only calling me a hypocrite.” The words wrestled out from his teeth, “I'm just… biased… I guess I really only heard what I wanted to.”

“So….”

“So,” his voice softened, “I'm sorry for being a wanker, regardless of it hurting you or not, since it was wrong either way.”

I waited, and then I nodded, “better.”

He let himself grin, albeit a queasy one. “Not ‘good’? Just ‘better’?”

“Yep.”

“Harsh critic, Evans.”

“Well it's easy to be harsh when I’m critiquing you.”

He sounded out a low whistle, “Merlin, I rather go back to not talking.”

Yes, I did have a smug smile on.

After I didn’t reply he asked,“Are we ‘better’, then?”

“We’re...good.”

***

Dinner was pleasant. A bit quiet, but calm. I still called Potter ‘Potter’, and he still called me Evans. _Rushing things wasn’t the way to go, I suppose._

Still, it seemed as if after that conversation Potter and I didn't know what to say to each other.

His parents pretended not to notice, but Euphemia snuck a look at me.

_I have to admit, I’d take quiet over raging argument any day._

 

* * *

 

**Thanks for reading! Let me know if you liked it if you did.**


	3. Music and Mayhem

A/N- sorry for being so late! I had midterms and finals to study for! I hope you enjoy this chapter, lots of stuff goes down. Also sorry for the odd spacing, the format doesn't translate well.

sorry, lol. enjoy

**Music and Mayhem**

My record player did not work. At least, it didn't work in the presence of excessive amounts of magic. I didn't realize how often wizards used spells for every day life. Even leisurely tasks like dusting or flipping pages of a cookbook were simplified with a charm.

Usually I'd find the strength for restraint, but my package from Alice arrived just a few hours ago, at 9 AM on the dot. It contained a new Abba record which I _needed_ to hear.

The record mocked me in its smooth cardboard sleeve, decorated with colorful versions of the band members floating faces. I tried putting it across the room where my eyes wouldn't wonder. The tactic wasn't very successful.

What else could I do? Stand at the edge of their backyard and hope the magic wouldn't reach?

In the meantime, I wrote back to Alice.

Now, I knew letters to my parent's weren't in my best interest considering possible interceptions, but Euphemia and Fleamont said keeping up appearances with friends was different. Of course only if my location and the participants aren't revealed. They said It would look more suspicious if I _didn't_ contact my friends for two months. I knew even these three weeks without a letter would raise some eyebrows. While I felt bad about lying, my friends would understand.

_Dear Alice,_

_OH MY GOD! Thank you, thank you, thank you! I've listened to the entire record twice already, and Petunia is threatening to trash my player if I continue. Of course I'm going to._

_What's your favorite song? I'm in love with tracks #3, 4, 7 and 9, but the others are great too._

_Remind me to pay you back with my soul._

_In other news, my mom got spring cleaning fever three months late. If only I could use those household spells you taught me, but sadly I already got a letter home because I turned something of Petunia's into a rat. Still, it was worth it._

_Nothing else is really going on here. Which is nice for a change, but I miss you and Marlene and Hogwarts food._

_Wishing you were here,_

Lily

That sounded believable, I just hoped tracks 3, 4, 7, and 9 were good songs. If anything, Alice Longbottom knew my music taste.

Someone knocked on my door.

"Come in."

Potter appeared. "Just letting you know my parents are leaving for a few hours. If you need to tell them anything, now is the time."

I thought for a second, "No, I'm good. I can always write it down on the pad."

And then, before he opened his mouth again, I shot up, realizing something, "They won't be home!"

"Yeah...I just said that."

"No, no, no, I meant it's good that they won't be home because that means less magic."

As I got up and grabbed the record James asked "...Are you feeling okay?"

"Yes, and can you not do any magic for like 54 minutes?"  
"For as eloquent as you usually are, right now you're not making any sense." He stood in the doorway, a quizzical look on his face.  
I peeled off the plastic wrap, "I must listen to this record and _you_ must not use magic or else the technology won't work."  
"What's a record?"  
I ignored him. Instead I opened the case and pulled the record player out. Flicking my hair out of my face, I placed the disc onto the platform.  
"Whoa, what is all this?"  
"A record player."  
"It plays records?"

"You catch on quick."  
He chuckled, "If only that wasn't sarcasm."  
Finally I bent over and put the needle down. After a bit of static, music sounded out.  
My shoulders dropped with a satisfied sigh. Then I froze. I looked at Potter. "Do you mind?"  
He grinned and raised his brows, "I do not mind at all, Evans, thank you for asking."  
I had the urge to shove him. And laugh.  
Confused by these thoughts (more so the last one) I settled for a glare. Glares are safe.  
"So how does this muggle contraption work and what are we listening to?"  
"Are you seriously going to stay here?"  
"Or what? Stay away and _accidentally_ use magic?"  
What nerve. He had that stupid, infuriating grin on his face too. The smug bastard. He ran a hand through his black hair, like he knew he just won.  
"Fine. Sit."  
We sat on the floor, cross legged.  
"I'm listening to Abba. It's a band."  
" _We're_ listening to Abba."  
"Shut up. The record player works by the needle running over the grooves in the disc which in turn produces the sound."  
Potter tilted his head to the side, "So if I were to…-"

"Whatever you're thinking, don't do it because yes, it will mess the music up."

He smirked.

"I actually don't think this is half bad, Evans."

"Half bad? What do _you_ listen to, Potter?" The question was more rhetorical but of course he answered anyway.

"Hmm...lately The Split Cauldrons, Poisoned Hearts, and a bit of everything else, but I've never heard this before. It's like, beat focused? That in the backgrou-"

I almost put my hand on his mouth, realizing the second track started. "Talking time is over. I need to listen and enjoy this."

With a flourish of his hand he said,"Your wish is my command."

I shot him a sideways glance.

He smiled dazzlingly in return.

To think that Potter and I would sit on the floor listening to _The Album_ for two consecutive hours is a ridiculous idea. A should-be-impossible idea, and yet...

The second time around he was murmuring the lyrics under his breath, tapping the wood with his knuckles.I was hunched over writing a new, more detailed letter to Alice. We agreed our favorite song was 'Take a Chance on Me".

When the music stopped we both looked to the doorway, then each other.

We were both thinking, _someone must have used magic_.

"Guys?" Fleamont called out from far below, "James? Lily?"  
We jumped up and James strode into the hall.  
"Yeah?" He disappeared. his footsteps sounded down the stairs.  
They didn't call me down, so I resumed my listening on the bed.  
The third time through I liked the album less.

* * *

Despite Fleamont and Euphemia's persistent reassurances last week that there really was no need, I did some laundry. In between loads I wrote letters. Marlene, Sheila, and Remus were updated with, well...lies.

It was strange how believable the letters sounded, even to me. I mentioned Petunia's antics, getting a new car (which actually happened three weeks ago, before I got here), and my summer job at Ralphs Ice cream. Part of me wanted to explain everything going on, but I knew the danger of the idea.

Yet it tempted me. The killings had momentarily calmed, which was good. Potter and I made up after our blow out, which was...good? Was that good? I wasn't sure. Friendship- if this really was that- was untraveled territory for us.

For a second I thought of calling Petunia. The idea was laughable: we hadn't had a decent conversation in years, let alone one about boys.

* * *

When I sat down for food, no one was very talkative.

"Is everything alright?" I asked.

The moon was rising in the sky, the darkness growing.

Fleamont put his head in his hands, and Euphemia looked up, "There was another attack."

"Oh." I put down my water. "I thought they were becoming less frequent…"

Fleamont leaned on his palm, "Yes, they were. The ambushes were quieting down, there were less signs of hostility. The relocation program really seemed to make a dent in their plans."

"But…?"

"This morning there was an attack on 92 Muggles and MuggleBorns."

My stomach dipped sharply.

"Ninety-two? How? Are they rounding them up for one big execution?"

"Only forty-five of them died, thirteen were injured, two in critical condition. There was a program, at a public library, an initiation-of-sorts for new students going to Hogwarts."

"They were _eleven years old?"_

"Some of them, yes."

I sat there, dumbfounded. Dumbfounded and furious. My anger growled out of me, "how did that happen? How could someone _let that happen?_ "

Euphemia shut her eyes. "It was a casual event. In a tiny village out by Nottingham." She sounded tired.

"Out where Aunt Aurelia lives?" James inquired.

She only nodded, her eyes watery. "Apparently word had gotten around from a few towns. Excited parents wanted information. A small library hosted the event with only two people running it. They thought only a couple of people would show…"

Fleamont said,"That wasn't the case."

"As it was ending, Death Eaters showed...I got the call too late. The place was already in flames. I'm too old for it -the field work- but they needed the people." She shrugged her shoulders. Fleamont moved in closer and put an arm around her. "I saved- I saved- three kids, only two parents, and I fought back a few Death Eaters. My god," Euphemia took a shuddering breath, "they- the Death Eaters, they were _laughing_."

James wouldn't look my way.

I leaned forward, "you did all you could, Euphemia. No one could have predicted that."

She nodded, albeit numbly.

"I'm just glad you're safe here, Lily." She looked around at each of our faces. "I'm glad all of you are safe."

* * *

The next few days passed. Euphemia would come and go. Immediately after the event Fleamont left the house to check on Potter's Aunt. He came back often, but didn't stay for long, going from the ministry back to the Aunt's house. When home Fleamont sat in his office and furiously wrote letters. All the while James and I listened to the radio for updates.

Three weeks without tension and then _this_.

" _Seems like today there's another murder in Essex, folks. Stay inside, follow the procedure the Ministry has owled out, and keep your wands on you at all times…"_

" _Tell me, Mr. Prime Minister, how do you react when certain reporters doubt your capabilities during these trying situations?"_

" _The townspeople of Nottingham now have a curfew starting at 8 PM."_

" _The Daily Prophet refuses to provide information about the recent massacre in Nottingham…"_

He tweaked the dial again. Only static rose. "Damn Grodric."

In the sunlit kitchen, everything looked fine. Copious amount of fruit and bread sat on the counter, birds fluttered in the warm air outside. Yet we all felt a lag. Like we were constantly waiting. Waiting for more terrible news. News that Voldemort had found out about a certain muggleborn protection program.

I looked over at James who fiddled mercilessly with the knob. "Is your Aunt alright?"

"Yeah," He shrugged, "She's fine. The killing near her town just made my dad extra nervous 'cause she's always been big on muggle-born rights. Her and my late grandpa." His eyes widened, "Of course, so is my dad and my mum! They were never into that pureblood stuff!"

I waved him off. "It's fine, really." Secretly, though, my heart raised a bit with that new knowledge.

"But yeah," James deflated, "Aunt Aurelia lives with her new husband, throws dinner parties and the like. She probably knows more details about the killing, that's all."

Another station came in clear.

" _Some reports say more than thirty eleven-year-olds were dead at the scene…"_

James and I didn't talk.

" _The Dark Mark was witnessed hanging over the public library as flames devoured the building, late on Sunday afternoon…"_

Two minutes of silence later and James whipped around, eyes wide and a smile on his face.

I raised a brow."What are you so cheery about?"

"Let's get out of this slump, Evans!"

* * *

And so, there I was, a broomstick in my hand while standing in James Potter's green backyard.

_So this is your idea of getting out of a slump?_

"The last time I flew was in First Year, Potter."

"Good day to change that!"

I rolled my eyes, "I really don't enjoy flying."

The sun blazed, alone in the calm blue sky, no clouds around to shield it. I wished that wasn't the case because even without the exercise my hairline grew sweaty.

"Why? Afraid of heights?"

"No. It's just...not my _thing."_ I dropped my arms childishly, still holding the broom.

"It can't not be your thing. You tried it once seven years ago. How can you expect a thing to be your thing when you've only done the thing once?"

"Twice."

"And now three times. Get on the broom."

I balked at him, yet part of me tried not to smile, "Aren't I supposed to command it first? And like, stand a certain way and hold it with my-"

"For someone who claims Quidditch isn't 'their thing', you sure have a lot of criticisms."

 _Hm. That was a good one._ "I want to do this the right way."

His smirk appeared again, "If that didn't work for you before, why go through it again? Try it my way."

His messy hair whipped in the slight breeze. I savoured the feeling of the wind on my damp skin. James lifted a hand and repositioned his glasses.

"I swear, if you end up getting me killed…"

"Then you won't be around to complain about me anyway!"

I nearly snorted.

"Now," he clapped, "up."

I huffed, not really all that annoyed, and straddled the broom.

"Lift off, but just so you hover, I need to see your posture."

He stood back, watching critically, one eyebrow poised when they weren't both furred together.

Hesitantly, I teetered on my tiptoes and then tapped the ground.

"Harder than _that_."

I glared and pushed off, ...and accidentally shot up several feet into the thick air. "Agh!" My feet dangled. I jolted. I gripped the wood frantically, leaning back too much.

"Oh okay wait, calm down, you're just too high, too fast-" James laughed a bit as he came closer. He put a hand on my waist. After he repositioned me he brought me down.

For the short moment his hand rested on me, I stared at it. I wondered since when did he have such big hands? Or ...such long fingers?

_Wait. Since when did I care?_

"Better. Stay at this level for now."

"Fine." I shook off my thoughts, "What next?"

I saw the small beginnings of a smug smile. And some perspiration on his forehead as well.

"Tilt to the right."

" _Tilt_? To fall off?"

"No don't fall off." He chuckled, "Besides, you're like, four feet off the ground, Evans. I'll catch you if you fall either way. (A/N: Foreshadowing?) It's so

you get used to changing directions while balancing."

After I flipped my hair from my sticky face, I leaned to the right.

"Good, good, and relax your legs, you're gripping _way_ too hard."

I laughed."How _else_ am I supposed to stay on this?"

"You can't be super rigid. It takes too much strength and concentration... and honestly, it hurts after a while." He swiped his forehead with his arm.

"Well, since we're doing this _your_ way..."

After following a few more of his instructions, he let me into the air.

"Now wait, wait! I'm getting my broom!"

Moving a few inches here and there, I could do. But zooming around faster than 5 MPH? No thanks. The air seemed hotter off the ground. I pulled my shirt away from my chest and blew some air down it.

"I didn't think you were a quitter Evans! What's with the slow pace?" He bellowed, clearly enjoying himself.

"Because it is as hot as Merlin's soggy left ball out here and this isn't my thing! I enjoy _watching_ Quidditch, not _playing!_ Do _not_ throw that quaffle at me!"

"You've only been flying for, like, 20 minutes!"

"That's long enough for-" I jumped and shrieked with laughter as he pretended to hurl the red quaffle in my direction.

The glass door of the house slid open, "Oh thank Merlin, Euphemia they're over here!" I peeked over my shoulder to see Fleamont burst outside in his light cloak and tan slacks. He looked relieved.

"There you guys are!" The panic in Euphemia's voice declined as she approached.

Immediately James lowered himself to the ground. He landed and kept the broom in his hand.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing, nothing," Euphemia shook her head while panting. She pressed her hand on her heaving chest, "You worried us, that's all."

Fleamont frowned, "James, next time leave a note will you?"

From above I noticed James tense up. A sweat stain lined the back of his shirt. "What? Why? Why are you acting like I did something wrong?"

"Given the circumstances, it would be nice to have a heads up before you go to the yard."

"A heads up?" James scoffed, "Why do I need to tell you we're going outside to have a game of quidditch?"

Fleamont squeezed his eyes shut and released a breath. He pinched the bridge of his nose, "In this time, when I walk into my house and it's completely empty and no one answers when I call, your mother and I get _scared_ , James. Especially now that Lily is under our care. Entering an empty house is a red flag now." He gave a pointed look.

"Oh."

"Think a little more next time."

James only nodded, swallowing.

Euphemia said,"There's been another killing."

For a moment no one cold feeling returned, despite the heat of the sun. Then I let out a squeak.

"...Can someone help get me down?"

* * *

The next morning I fumbled out of bed, my hamstrings and quads and stomach sore. Damn quidditch. The soreness wouldn't stop me though, because at the unruly hour of six AM I really needed to pee. Like, I _really_ needed to pee. Even with the flying practice, the somber mood of yesterday evening muddled my sleepy mind. We heard of another killing, another twelve dead, another reminder that we must let Mr and Mrs Potter know when we weren't in the house, as to minimize their worrying.

I bumped into walls in the dark hallway, impaired by the lack of light and my lack of alertness-

_Another twelve dead…two of them tiny children. Twelve dead and the Prophet says they're fine...two more houses set aflame...two more Dark Marks..._

Which is exactly why I barged right into the bathroom while someone else occupied it.

Guess who the someone else was.

Yeah…..

"AH-"

James potter, hair wet and half of his chin covered in shaving cream, stood in the bathroom just after a shower.

And no he didn't have _just a towel_ on. He actually had a robe on. A blue robe. A blue robe that provided an _arguably_ nice view of his chest. Just a thin sliver of it, but a thin sliver that journeyed down to the robe's belt around his waist, nonetheless. That thin sliver of his chest revealed some light chest hair. Plus, past his navel ( _an innie_ ) there was a faint trail that lead somewhere I couldn't see...

 _Not that I'd want to. Ever. At all. I mean I wouldn't want to see that, to clarify, of course, yeah…._ oh bollocks.

"Hi?" He quirked his thick eyebrows.

I noticed his hair stood up even when wet. In a tousled way, not a stringy way. I'd never seen him with stubble before so it surprised me that he shaved. He wasn't wearing his glasses either.

The corner of his mouth lifted into a smirk, "You're a lot more flustered than I thought you'd be at the sight of me in a bathrobe."

I raised my brows. "It's- It's because I'm embarrassed, your prick. If you were _normal_ you'd _also_ be embarrassed."

There was a moment of confusion, and then he grinned.

"Would you be even more embarrassed if I told you that I'm naked under this?"

My eyes widened, and then I clamped them shut, angrily sucking in breath. "Why, suddenly, are you back to being an idiotic pervert?"

"An idiotic pervert? Hey, you're the one who barged in on _me_."

"Yeah and I'm the one to slam the door too, this time not by accident!"

I did just that. I slammed the door in his confused, dripping wet face.

What the bloody _hell?_

On the way back I fumed out angry thoughts: _like, why? Yesterday he seemed...nicer! Caring, even! Less of a..a stupid smartass! Now he reverts back to his immature self?_

_Ugh!_

Damn, how I wished I could talk to someone about this. Except that was impossible. Owling my friends about walking into James Potter in a bathroom would be blaringly obvious to interceptors.

I flopped down onto my bed. For a few seconds I didn't remember my bladder. A few seconds, mind you.

_Ugh!_

I stomped downstairs, to one of the (yes, there's multiple) bathrooms on the first floor, since, you know, the one near my room was occupied.

Even in the bathroom I mumbled complaints to myself.

When I reentered the kitchen Potter was standing there waiting for me.

"Hey," he greeted softly. "You...alright?"

Yes, he still wore the bathrobe, yet displayed significantly less chest. No shaving cream.

I huffed, "Why do you care?"

His eyebrows scrunched, "I was joking around in there, Evans. You seemed a bit...on edge. We were fine yesterday."

"Yeah well, that's because you weren't acting like a fool yesterday."

He nodded slowly, "Or maybe," he grinned, "not to say I'm not the court jester of fools…"

I glared.

He dropped his grin and continued, "Maybe it's because of the killing last night? You probably have a lot going on in your mind."

"Yeah," I spat, "Maybe it's because twelve muggleborns were killed last night and I'm not in the mood for your 'jokes'."

I stared him down and he stared right back. His hazel eyes were intense even behind his glasses. He squared his shoulders.

"I figured that's why it would be the best time for jokes."

"Why, because I _need_ them?"

"Because how can someone survive during a war without some laughter?"

I fumbled on the edge of words, a retort, a comeback, _anything_. Yet nothing came out.

"You can't." He answered for me. He still held my stare.

_That's... true._

"My joke might have been a bit inappropriate," _also true_ , "but I was just trying to make an uncomfortable situation into a funny one."

I looked away. The gray tiles of his kitchen gleamed back at me. I sighed, "I suppose I should apologize then...for snapping at you…"

"I never said I required an apology, but," His face lit up, "If you are _oh so_ insistent about it-"

"Nope, I am not." I tried keeping a straight face.

"I am _all_ ears Lily Evans." He leaned closer, his hand cupped against his ear. He smelled good, like clean soap.

"You are all ears and also the court jester of fools, James Potter." I crossed my arms and smirked.

"A court jester of fools that is wearing his boxers," He lifted up a side of his robe. Yep, those were some boxers alright. Snitch covered ones.

I let out a laugh, "Snitches? Really?"

"Anything to succeed at my job." He winked.

 _Which one?_ I wanted to ask, but instead I bit my lip and said,"Thanks."

"Oh don't thank me just yet, next time I _really_ won't wear anything under this."

I shooked my head rapidly, swatting him away with a snort, "Nope, nope, it's too early for this-"

"Did you just _snort_? Was that noise coming from _you_?"

"Don't! Don't make fun of it!"

"Make fun of it? Have you _seen_ my boxers?"

"Sadly, yes," I yelled, smiling, "Yes I have!"

By the time Fleamont came downstairs the conversation had unraveled to the point that James and I were in uncontrollable fits of laughter. James lay shaking on the floor and I was heaving from the stool by the counter. Fleamont looked from me to James, and then back again.

"Are you guys okay?"

"We're- we're-" James couldn't get the rest out.

"We're good," I managed between giggles.

Fleamont raised an eyebrow. "Okay then….."

* * *

Rays of brilliant light shone through my windows, the airy curtains pulled back for the view. It's not like James had mountains or incredible scenery behind his house or anything, but there were nice lines of dark evergreens extending high and wide. Opening the windows made the room feel less stuffy. A light breeze drifted in every now and again.

"Pick up, pick up, pick up," I mumbled, the heavy phone pressed to my ear.

"Hello?"

"Mum!" I jumped up, "Hi!"

"Oh Lily! I was wondering when you'd call again. For whatever dang reason I can't seem to get a number from this phone to call back."

I laughed, "Yeah, that's part of the magic protection, actually complication, we can't seem to fix it, sorry about that. And sorry it took so long, there's been a lot going on." I twisted the telephone cord around my finger.

"I can imagine...actually, I can't. What are things like over there? Last time you didn't say much."

"It's good" I said. "The company is very accommodating," I leaned my shoulder against the wall and whispered, "they're _loaded_ mum."

My mum chuckled, "without you here, Petunia and _I_ are loaded!"

She couldn't see me scowl, but somehow she knew.

"Oh hush you know I'm just taking the mickey."

"Yeah, yeah. Anyhow, the parents are really nice, and the guy in my year is...getting better."

"I'll want to meet them at some point, to thank them for all this. Can you tell them that?"

"Sure I'll tell'em."

"What'd you say about the kid?"

"He's not a kid, mum. He's in my year."

"Yeah, yeah, anyhow…"

I laughed, " _Anyhow_ , he's getting better. Becoming less of a prick."

"It must be fun living with a guy considered 'less of a prick'. Either you're a harsh critic Lil's or this boy is trouble."

"Trouble." I said confidently. "Wait. Maybe a bit of both."

"Both? Oh _really_?"

"He means well. Sometimes he expresses that well meaning in…. unconventional ways."

"You're worrying me." I could hear her smile, "What 'unconventional' ways are we speaking of?"

"Merlin, Mum!" Even though she couldn't see, I rolled my eyes. "He's a bit arrogant is all, and makes jokes all the time, and in school he pulls some elaborate pranks on people."

"Must be interesting... living with a boy for once, especially that one." Mum mused, "How does it feel? Like having a brother?"

For some reason the word 'brother' seemed off. I didn't want to ask myself why.

I absentmindedly uncoiled the cord.

"Not like having a brother. And I've sort of lived with boys for the past six years, considering school."

"Hm, right. Good thing you're used to it, then. I would hate it if you were unhappy over there."

"What happened to my happiness coming after my safety?" I asked curiously.

"Well of course, but I'm glad you're not miserable." She paused, and then, "I heard about a few 'freak accidents' and missing people this week."

"Yeah." I sighed. "It's the Death Eaters."

"Thought it would be. You're safe there though? Be honest with me sweetheart."

"Yeah Mum," I looked at the open window, suddenly nervous. "We have magic enchantments on the entire house, the trace is gone, his parent's are trained Aurors-"

"High-esteemed Magic Police."

"Yep! Nice one." I smiled, "So I'm good."

"That's really comforting to hear, Lily. What'd you say that boys name was again?"

"James." I responded. I pulled the cord back and let it slap the wall lightly.

"Oh okay so he isn't the same one you complain about at home sometimes…"

"No, yeah," my confusion came out in my voice, "yeah he is."

"Really? I'm pretty sure that one had a different name. Something like Peter?"

My stomach dipped, "His last name. It's Potter."

"Ha! I thought that was his _first_ name! Since when is he James?"

I gulped, but I knew my mum wouldn't hear my heartbeat through the phone, "Since he was born, Mum."

"Yes dear, I know that." She laughed, "I meant to you. Since when is he James to you?" Her question lacked any smugness, I knew she only asked innocently. And yet my palms grew sweaty.

"I….I don't know.."

"God he used to piss you off so much! From what I heard that is…-"

"He...still does…" I mumbled.

"My god I can't believe this is the same boy you would complain about! I always thought his name was Potter! I thought it was odd, of course, but if other kids in the Wizarding World are named things like Neville and, and, Helga or Grodric or whatever," she continued talking but the rest of her ramble didn't compute in my brain, because my thoughts focused on James.

The first name. Not the person.

Okay, the person.

But mostly the first name, and the fact that I said his name, thought his name, have casually _said_ his name and hadn't even noticed it. When did it start? Why?

_Nope. Not going to the 'why'. Who cares about the why?_

_I mean, he's less of an asshole. That might be why. His arms_ have _gotten bigger- wait, that has nothing to do with it._

"Lily? Did you hear that? I know you'd rather hear it from her, but she's being a bit of a prat about you lately. I hate it but she won't give. Still, isn't it good news-?"

"I'm sorry, what?"

"-I know he isn't the most gentlemanly man of them all, but I think he'll be good for her."

"What are you talking about?" I hugged the phone tighter to my ear.

"About Petunia."

"What about Petunia?" I put my free hand on my forehead, "Sorry, I must have spaced out."

"That Petunia's getting married! To Vernon!"

The phone slipped from my limp hand.

* * *

 **A/N** \- I hope this chapter was okay. I wanted some more tension between Lily and James, because I don't think one fight is realistic given their history and given the stressful circumstances. Obviously Lily does appreciate his sense of humor. Also I found the Aunts name on some 'odd baby names' list, bc JK Rowling always gives such strange names.

Again, sorry for the wait! I hope I'm more punctual next time with the weekly update!

Thanks for following and reviewing too! I really appreciate all of the favorites and reviews I get!

-Jackie


	4. Conversations and Comforts

**A/N- Hey! I'm going to start using "~~~~J/L~~~" as a way to show time progression. I copy and paste from my FFnet version and the line breaks don't show up like how they do here, so i'll use the ~~JL~~~ instead.**

* * *

**Conversations and Comforts**

I didn't tell anyone about my sister's engagement, even after a few days. The conversation seemed unnecessary to me: Euphemia hurried from work to home and back to work again, and Fleamont seemed just as busy. James- ugh! Potter!- probably didn't need to hear about it either.

Every few hours I'd consider visiting my home to congratulate Tuney. Knowing it wouldn't be a wonderful teary reunion didn't stop the urge to go. If anything, Tuney resented me the longer I went without saying anything about it.

I tried calling home several times in hopes she'd pick up, to no avail. She always refused to come to the phone.

To make matters worse, I just got my period.

"Shit shit shit." I said whilst searching for some tampons. I was crouched down, looking through the cupboard under the lavatory sink. Suddenly I wanted to be back home for a completely different reason. I never appreciated living with only women until that moment.

"Of all things to forget when packing. Of course I forget tampons. Of _course_!" After a few more minutes I slumped back down on the bathroom rug. "Fine. No tampons there." I stuffed my underwear with tissues instead. Not my finest moment.

"It's just temporary," I told myself, "I am _going_ to find a tampon."

First I looked for the Two-Way writing pad. That didn't show up either. Next, I checked the other bathrooms. Still, empty handed.

Euphemia and Fleamont weren't home. While I'd rather ask Euphemia, I'd ask Fleamont too. Both options were out.

I _wasn't_ about to ask James.

Potter, I meant Potter.

Not like I could find him if I wanted to; he wasn't around. He went over to Remus'.

I climbed the stairs and double checked my suitcase. I was correct the first time.

"Bloody Baron!" I yelled in frustration, flinging the socks to the floor.

I tried a summoning charm, and then one for a pad, too. Neither produced an object. If witches had different sanitary items, they must go by names I didn't know of.

The last place I thought of was Fleamont and Euphemia's room. She might house some in a drawer somewhere, I figured. Sneaking into my hosts room didn't seem very polite or respectful, but I was running out of options, and, if I didn't find one soon, a pair of pants.

Never being in their room before, I opened several guest-room doors unknowingly. Who knew long, identical hallways were so confusing?

"Not this one." I shut the door.

"Or this one." I shut the door.

" _Or_ this one." I shut the door.

Finally, I swung open a more used door which squeaked.

This, most definitely, was not Euphemia and Fleamont's room.

It smelt of _boy._ And, if i was truthful with myself, not in an entirely bad way...

The walls were a glittering gold, small round objects zooming from corner to corner. I realized they were snitches. The bed was a brown four poster, like at school, except for the lack of drapes. A few athletes in posters waved when I walked in. There were two dressers, and one drawer on each overflowed with clothes. Replica Quidditch cups stood on display, while strewn bottles of cologne and deodorant littered the rest of counter space. A few pencils here and there, containers of ink, crunched up papers. Framed pictures caught my eye. I picked one up. There sat the gang of guys: Remus, Sirius, Peter…and James. They were drinking out of white mugs, scarves bundled around their necks, mushed into a single booth. All of them looked incredibly happy, Sirius laughing with his mouth open, Peter smiling shyly, Remus almost spitting out his drink. James grinned, his black hair shining in the soft orange light of The Three Broomsticks. I traced the shape of his chin with my finger. He was lifting his mug into the air, as if to give a toast to the camera. Or the viewer. His eyes looked dark in the lighting, but I could tell they were looking right at me. His picture-self winked.

The feeling in my stomach snapped me out of my trance.

Too late, however.

"Why are you in my room?"

I spun around.

James looked very different from the picture, yet still so similar. No scarf, no mug. Same hair, same glasses. And something else I couldn't quite place.

"Oh! Um..." My eyes darted around him, as if an object in my surroundings could save me. "I…needed…something."

_Wow, great one Lily._

"What in particular that you couldn't find anywhere else in the house?"

_A tampon._

Which, I realized, I _also_ couldn't find in this room.

"Forget it."

"And…. what are you holding?"

I looked down at the picture in my hand. _Oh bugger._

"Is that my picture?" James seemed a bit miffed, and a tad amused.

My face filled with heat. _Not amused. Anything but amused. He should_ not _enjoy this in the slightest._

"I didn't mean to- I came in here…I came in here looking…" I stood up straight, "I came in here looking for a tampon. Or several, if you have them."

"Oh."

The blush crept into my cheeks.

"Okay, well, I think my mom uses an enchanted object. I don't think they're tampons per say. I do know what it looks like though."

I took a breath and nodded, surprised by his maturity.

"Do you know where I could get one of them?" I squeaked out, playing with the ends of my sleeves.

He pulled his wand from his pocket, " _Accio Women's sanitary product of which I don't remember the name!_ "

I heard a door fling open from down the hall, the flutter of plastic in the wind, and suddenly a small wrapped item sat in the palm of James' hand. He handed it over, not the least bit skeeved.

"Thank you."

He shifted uncomfortably. "The rest are somewhere in my mum's room, if you need more."

"Thanks." I realized I'd been saying that to James a lot lately.

I inspected the object a bit to avoid his gaze, running my free hand along the edges, flipping it over. It looked exactly like a regular tampon package.

"So, you definitely thought these would be in my room?"

My head shot up. This again. "Uh, no. I couldn't find your parents room."

He smirked. "Or you just wanted an excuse to sneak through my stuff."

"Yes, that's it precisely." I said sarcastically.

His smirk grew into a smug grin. "And look at pictures of me." The triumph was everywhere on his face, his eyes practically twinkling with it.

I rolled my eyes, yet my pink cheeks betrayed me, "Obviously, because I don't see you often enough."

He held up his hands with a shrug, "Hey, I don't know what you'd want to do with a picture of me, I didn't want to assume anything too scandalous."

"Okay _no_. Stop right there."

"If you wanted one _that badly_ you could have just asked, Evans. I know how birds get on their period…"

 _How birds...hOW BIRDS GET ON THEIR-_ My mouth opened but I failed to produce a sound. I wanted to laugh and yell at him at the same time.

"You _bugger-_ "

"So it's true?" The way he inclined his head towards me made me even angrier. _That smirk! That smirking smirk! Fuck that smirk!_

Taking a deep breath, I composed myself. "Here. Take the picture. You looked horrendous in it anyway."

He raised his eyebrows.

I continued, "I just wanted to see how Sirius looked; he's always been the attractive one. It's the hair."

Feigning offense he took the frame. "And here I thought you'd be into Remus' intellect!"

"There we go," I smiled, "attractiveness and intellect, two qualities you lack." As I went past him and out the door, the warmth in my face no longer had to do with embarrassment.

"You just haven't been looking close enough, Evans." James said, his voice low in a way that shouldn't have been nice.

For once, I hated that James Potter was wrong.

**~~~~~~~~~~J/L~~~~~~~~**

It's surprising how easily one gets bored without multiple friends to talk to. I spent a lot of time lying in bed, listening to my records, thinking.

When it wasn't James, the war, or my excessive bleeding and mild back pain three days in, one of the popular topics was Petunias engagement. A single thought and I could rile myself into a rant about Vernon.

Like, what did she _see_ in him? The man looked like a walrus! I understood he had a mustache that every girl liked nowadays, but really? It wasn't attractive! Let's just admit it! Unless he has a beard with the mustache, it isn't attractive. Just a beard is okay, but overall, clean-shaven is the way to go. Let's stop lying to ourselves. The guy isn't her type, either. Not to say she couldn't be attracted to a bigger person, because plenty of them are handsome, but I _know_ Petunia. Petunia has posters on her walls of 'pretty' guys. Guys with nice shoulders and subtle grins and fluffy hair. Heck, even I can acknowledge they're fit. If he didn't attract her, she had to adore his personality, right?

Wrong, because I can't even say he's a nice fellow! He grunts for a hello, no handshake, no wave. He doesn't make jokes, he doesn't have any capacity for banter or flirting. When I see him with Petunia all he does is grumble on about his work when he isn't staring at her like some horn dog. I'd rather see her with a man who annoys her with his obsessions or his puns than a man who can't carry on a conversation past "What did you do today, sweetie?" Where's the fun in that? If he can't make you laugh you can't spend the rest of your life with him and be happy. Hell, if he can't make you feel _anything_ besides 'secure' and 'content' he can't make you happy. Those are good, important parts of a relationship, but they shouldn't be the only reasons. He's boring! Worse than boring; he didn't even qualify for boring! They've never had big emotional episodes. Of any kind. No yelling, no happy crying, no anything. Relationships can't just be chaotic, I know, but they need _some_ emotional investment. Some feeling, some balance. With Petunia it's just "Vernon has a business meeting he's taking me to, it's at a fancy restaurant downtown, isn't that nice." There's no substance. Besides on occasions for work, she always makes the plans, yet gives him the credit because he's the one who drives. A guy should put in the effort sometimes. Both participants should think of fun dates, activities both of you could do. Even if it wasn't your favorite sport or whatever, it's nice to know the other wants you included.

And talents! The guy had none! I'm not joking! Not even a silly one, like juggling. Petunia's a good organizer, has a knack for makeup, and routines down to a tee- a trait we shared. Vernon on the other hand didn't do anything. He wasn't athletic, or into books, or watching the telly, or politics. He didn't seem passionate over anything! Even if he were an asshole, at least he'd be passionate over ruining people's self-esteem or something. Nope, this guy had nothing.

The only thing they agreed on was probably that his pay was decent and that I was a freak.

**~~~~~~J/L~~~~~~**

Fleamont started fixing up supper when I came downstairs. We were having a chicken dish with homemade sauce. Or, at least, he wanted homemade sauce.

"I don't have the time for it," He said while hurriedly stir-frying a large side of vegetables, "And, if I'm honest, my cooking spells are less than spectacular."

I grabbed a pan and the bundle of tomatoes, "I can sub in."

Thus, we began. I cut up the garlic, fetched the spices, and put the tomatoes into a large bowl.

Between cutting the ingredients, Fleamont and I began talking.

"How've you been dealing with the anti-muggleborn stigmas, Lily?"

I shrugged, "Ever since I was a First year people made comments. I'm used to it. I find it almost amusing how a bunch of stupid millionaire purebloods feel so threatened by people like me." I looked up, "No offense."

Fleamont smiled- eerily similar to James'- "None taken. Historically we 'stupid millionaire purebloods' tend to suck."

I grin. "You're exempt."

"Well! Now that I have the Muggleborn seal of approval…"

"You can murder the rest of them!" I laughed. "They'll never see it coming!"

"Oh no! You unhatched my entire plan!" He even attempted an evil cackle.

Once our laughter petered out we worked in comfortable silence.

Fleamont and I switched tasks. I started seasoning the vegetables.

"Are you ever afraid?" I asked, grabbing the garlic, "For Euphemia ? I know she doesn't do a lot of field work, but sometimes, when she does…?"

Fleamont scrunched his brows together and frowned. "Sometimes. I know she's more than capable, but…we're not getting any younger. I worry for her emotionally, mostly. Seeing her upset…-" he looks at me, his eyes incredibly soft, "well, I never like seeing her upset. It ruins me. Just a bit." He gives a small smile. "When she gets a broken arm I panic a little but we have potions and medicine for that. It's when she's overwhelmed and having nightmares that I feel…very powerless."

I only nodded, blushing. The way he spoke of Euphemia seemed a tad too intimate for my ears.

"It's amazing," he muses a little sadly, "loving someone that much."

I laughed nervously, moving the pan around as it sizzled, "I wouldn't know."

His twinkling eyes gazed right through me. He gave a knowing, mischievous look. "Oh, you will."

His certainness made my face redder. _Damn my pale skin._

Fleamont glanced at me again, laughing. "Don't worry. It's only a little bit terrifying."

"Can't wait."

"You seem more than equipped for it."

"Really?" I huffed doubtingly.

"Really."

Right then the timer for the chicken goes off.

"You got those vegetables done Lil's?"

"Got them," I smiled, oddly enjoying the casual use of my childhood nickname.

"Good, the sauce is about done- I'll get the chicken out."

When we all sit down to eat, I can't help but notice how fondly Fleamont looked at Euphemia . Briefly, I wondered if that's how Vernon looked at Petunia, and that maybe I just never caught it.

**~~~~~~J/L~~~~~~~**

Typically this occurred in the morning, but I suppose something about the acidity in the tomato sauce at dinner triggered my nausea. Usually the second day of a person's period is the worst, but, lucky me, mine usually landed on the third. I've never gotten sickening cramps like Marlene did or headaches like Dorcas, instead I got nausea and back pain. And, as usual, heavy bleeding.

That's why I didn't want to get up from bed to brush my teeth.

Surprisingly, the magical tampon worked very well, and there were little side effects: I only experienced a mild stomach ache throughout the day.

I groaned. I flipped onto my stomach, hoping to relieve some pain. It couldn't have been past 9 O'clock, which is why James came into my room, slightly concerned.

"I figured you weren't feeling too well." He stood by the doorframe, looking gangly and tall. He swiped a hand through his hair.

The situation was awkward, but we went through worse earlier that morning: I gave up and said, "That's correct," and planted my face back down into my pillow.

"I brought you some water, and a charmed towel. It, uh, stays warm up to a few hours. My mom uh uses it, for like, cramps and such."

I lifted my neck, "Seriously?" The surprise in my voice came out more than intended.

He noticed, "Wow, good to hear you have so much faith in me."

"Sorry, I didn't expect it as all, for a teenage boy to bring a girl some comforts during her period."

As he handed the cool glass and the towel to me his fingers graced over mine. He averted his eyes, "Actually… it was my Mums idea. She and dad are busy though so she couldn't bring it."

" _Aaaand_ whatever charm you had is gone."

"I had charm?"

"Wrongly credited charm; I was under the false impression this was your idea. Your mum deserves that now."

"So you find my mum charming?"

"Absolutely." I said, my words slightly grumbled by the pillow. "She's a wonderful woman."

He let out an exaggerated sigh, "Every person in this household seems to praise her."

"The only other person in his household besides you before I showed up was your dad. He _should_ praise her."

James wrinkled his nose, "Oh gross."

"Not like _that_. You're the one who said they were 'busy'."

"I didn't mean it like that, either. They're going over taxes right now."

I sat up and took a sip of water, "At least that's what they told you." I smirked.

He stepped back, hands shielding his face, "Oh _gross_ Evans. I am _appalled._ "

"Even I could see the way he looked at her at dinner tonight…"

"He _always_ does that."

I quirked my eyebrows, "How often did you say they 'did their taxes', again?"

He sputtered out a laugh, pink dusting his face, "You've got some nerve."

"Most people call it cheek."

_Yes, I am thoroughly enjoying this._

He shook his head and wagged a long finger at me, but no words came out of his opening and closing mouth.

"Alright, Potter?"

_The look on his face!_

His cheeks burned red. "I'm bloody spectacular."

I calmly put the heated towel under my back and folded my arms behind my head. I sighed blissfully, "I bet your parents feel more than spectacular."

He left without another word.

"Thanks for the comforts," I whispered gleefully, knowing he couldn't hear.

~~~~~A/N~~~~~~~

**A/N- Sorry this chapter is so short! I thought it was a nice break after such a long, semi-dark chapter before it. I tried exploring Lily's head a little bit, so most of this is just inner monologue and conversations with others. And I wanted Lily to show her cheeks side. Plus, a few subconscious clues on her attraction to James ;) I hope you found it enjoyable and slightly more comical than the last chapter, as that was my intention.  Also, if I grossed you out with all the period talk, I'm sorry... but also not? I hate how it's rarely** **_ever_ ** **brought up in YA fiction, and not much in fanfic either. I thought it was a funny situation while also a realistic one, bc lbr, she'd have to deal with getting her period at some point.**

**Thanks for reading! :)**

**-Jackie**

**Author's Note:**

> Aaaaand that was the first chapter. Thanks for reading! I'll probably update every week. Reviews and favorites are much appreciated bc I love hearing feedback on what you guys think. This fic is actually gonna be pretty fluffy at times, ngl. And it'll get darker. Wait for it.
> 
> (Also, I originally named his parents Edmund and Lucy, but I figured I'd change it to fit with canon. Too bad canon them have such ugly names.)
> 
> Thanks for reading!
> 
> \- Jackie


End file.
